


but as the water fills my mouth it couldn’t wash the echoes out

by joeri



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Messy, Not A Fix-It, Post-Time Skip, Relationship Study, Roughness, Sad Unsexy Sexual Acts, Wallowing In How Broken It Is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 22:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joeri/pseuds/joeri
Summary: The pleasure is consuming,crooked, and Felix had an idea once about how to wrest Dimitri back from whatever leapt inside him that day but it didn’t involve this.





	but as the water fills my mouth it couldn’t wash the echoes out

The fingers in his hair rip and tear, draw battle plans in the fingernail trails dug into his scalp and make him cry. “Y-you’re _hurting_ me, boar—” Throat spasms in futility as Dimitri slots his mouth over his, pinning him hard to the ground as their pelvis’s mash together. They’ve always commingled with one another less like a pair of hands touching and more like bones rattling into each other, grinding and shaking and _musical_ and _messy_ all around.

Felix doesn’t know anything about love, only that it’s a twisted thing that he wishes his heart weren’t corrupted by. As much as he can wish Dimitri weren’t the stain on the sleeve where his heart once sat, wish Dimitri weren’t the reason he’d _cut_ the sleeves off of all his shirts since they were children, wish that his love had faded instead of rotting inside his ribs… there’s a pair of lips on his own that belong to a horrid monster and they’re wearing his face.

The pleasure is consuming, _crooked_, and Felix had an idea once about how to wrest Dimitri back from whatever leapt inside him that day but it didn’t involve this. Something his father had told him about the goddess and how his mother claimed to have heard her voice in the rivers lingering between the Gautier and Fraldarius territories. Daydreams about taking Dimitri down to the river, cleaning him out, cleaning his soul, washing the dirty blood from his mouth and draining it from his veins until only crystal clear bled from him.

In the end, Felix decided he didn’t believe in the goddess. Maybe if he hadn’t held the face of his brother, tried to breathe life into a faceless thing, a worn out thing, a torn up thing, he wouldn’t know what poison tasted like so fathomably. He wouldn’t smell it on Dimitri every time he stalked into a room. He wouldn’t be gagging on the fumes now as Dimitri sucked on his tongue, sanded him down into something smaller he could use.

It tastes vile. It’s intoxicating like a bloody battlefield is when you’re thirteen and you’ve never seen that many bodies on the ground, and you can’t look away and you tell yourself it’s because you _like_ it, you’re fascinated and disgusted and you’re a Fraldarius heir now, so you already know what comes next.

It tastes like rancid and rot and Felix moans into it.

The river is in me, surely, he might’ve thought. Like he’s trying to pull Dimitri from his own grave, Felix’s hands are knotted up in Dimitri’s head and he’s hooking him close. He’s praying to a goddess who abandoned them both.

_You’re still in there_, he says to himself sitting up and Dimitri’s hands are all over him. They aren’t finding any particular place to land, only skimming across muscle and scar and rubbing him red and making Felix’s sides numb. Like he’s forgotten what to do, how to get the stimulation that he wants. Like he’s crawling all the same from his tomb and merely scratching the surface for freedom, for everything Felix’s got inside of him.

“S-stop,” Felix huffs out, eyes clenched up with only one item to correct. “Don’t just—rub my skin raw, t-touch me somewhere.”

It’s sought after in frustration. It’s a focal point, it’s a place of reference. It’s something to change Dimitri’s mind. It’s something for him to see that isn’t darkness and death, a head on a spit, a gang of phantoms at his door. It’s a lifeline and Dimitri’s lonely eye gives away nothing as he fixes Felix with a cold gawk. It’s the quietest you could be while sliding your claws down someone’s belly.

Felix messes up, cries out a little at the sudden sensation—Dimitri’s clenching his cock and Felix wonders where the mistake actually happened.

In thinking Dimitri could come unraveled before him, perhaps. In thinking Felix could keep his boyhood and ardor under his tongue, maybe.

Dimitri’s stroking him soft. It’s _gentle_ of all the maddening things and Felix doesn’t know what this could possibly mean when Dimitri’s lapping hard into his mouth like it’s made for making bruises. It feels like heartbreak. It feels like placation when Dimitri xylophones his fingers along the base of his shaft and treats him like porcelain, like glass, like they’re kids again and Felix will shatter.

Coughing up his common sense, Felix bids himself to speak. “You’re good,” runs from his mouth and he realizes he can’t think straight enough to censor himself.

“Y-you’re in there, you…”

Fuck, it feels good. Felix’s mind spins. He’s a teen again and he’s fantasizing about the boy with the bloody tongue, the piano-white teeth, the movements he makes in well-intentioned strikes and the beast that marionettes his every other move. Felix is seventeen again in Garreg Mach Monastery, muffling himself quiet with the hem of his shirt swallowed down between a set of teeth. Felix is seventeen again and he’s wishing the prince in the next room over would put his hands on him.

Blinking back a stinging behind his eyes, Felix’s throat aches and he rolls his body into Dimitri’s with a watery moan.

“Just-just pay attention to me,” he says, and he hates being looked at but not if it’s _him_, not if he needs this.

Opening his eyes, Felix finds two of Dimitri’s gaping up at him. The right one, free of its blindfold now tangled in Felix’s fingers, blinks lazily. The other is rapt with lust. It glimpses across every inch of reddened skin, absorbed. Felix wraps his legs around Dimitri’s waist, dimly questioning if this is still for Dimitri’s benefit and not his own.

He’d come to Dimitri’s room. He’d tried in vain to have something of a conversation before growing blind with rage, and hate and anger. And grief.

Felix came here to grieve one more time. When their lips touch again, Felix is tearing into his mouth to hear something, _anything_ from the animal that took his friend. Dimitri moves with such purpose for something already so dead, The least he can do is sound pleased.

Grunting and yanking his head away, Dimitri’s motions come to a halt. Felix’s jaw comes away red.

“Dimitri,” he calls. “You just need a reminder you’re human.” Felix spits crimson into the carpet. “Not a monster, not a… not a—”

“You’ve never been able to accept who I am.”

Shivering, Felix’s fingers catch on the sides of Dimitri’s undershirt, rooting him in place.

“I’m sorr—” Felix’s fist smashes into the corner of Dimitri’s cheekbone and he’s almost impressed by how hard the prince’s head bounces off the floor behind him.

Felix, between gritted teeth: “you don’t _ever_ listen when anyone speaks.” His hands collect Dimitri’s head and lift him off the floor once more.

“You’re so weak. You’re so fucking consumed—_you don’t get it_! You and I are still alive. Your parents are gone, my brother is dead, but we’re still alive. There’s _more_ than this!”

Breathing hard, no hint of rage in any plane of Dimitri’s face, he says simply, “there’s the funeral of a tyrant and a wretch.”

In trembling wrath, “yes, and you would kill yourself and Faerghus to see it.” Felix’s heart tires.

For half a second, it’d felt so good. He’s no good at this, not like Sylvain is. Felix wants to fuck it away.

Scrambling to find that place again, Felix’s left hand comes to cup Dimitri’s right that’s still lingering in his pants. The other is thumbing the blood from his mouth. Felix pulls him close. Felix tells him, “please.”

“Why are we doing this now?” And Felix knows that Dimitri means why hadn’t they then, and Felix is closing his eyes and grinding his hips up.

“I didn’t think you needed saving. I thought… I thought you’d sort it out on your own. I thought you’d snap out of it. I thought any number of things but—”

Kissing him again, Felix can tell he’s more riled up than Dimitri is as he palms him slow. His breath hitches in time with a particularly fond squeeze of the hand and he falls apart in Dimitri’s grip.

“You need someone to love you, you’re pathetic,” Felix says and Dimitri cards a few gloved fingers through his hair—the rabid impulse to rend and tear having dissipated over time.

“I didn’t then?”

“I didn’t care to be the one to do it,” pants Felix.

“And you don’t now?”

Heart stopping in place, dangling precariously above a place Felix can’t follow, his eyebrows knit up.

“This isn’t about me.”

With Dimitri’s hands all over Felix, nursing his crying erection, smoothing out the lines in his crying face, surely it couldn’t _possibly_ be about Felix. Dimitri nods his head, sharp mouth matting itself over Felix’s again just as his tempo increases and Felix starts bending his back up against him.

“I’m sorry, Felix, I’ll love you now.”

“_No_,” Felix whimpers and Dimitri pumps him harder, wringing cry after cry out of Felix’s shambling form. “No, I don’t want that. Just touch me. Just _remember_—”

This is for Dimitri. This is a distraction.

This is the Prince of Faerghus stroking him off, pumping him harder and pressing mangy kisses into his gullet, leaving a line Felix will recall when the emperor comes to cleave off their heads. This is a mistake, made when Felix thought he could dive into the river and take Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd with him.

This is selfishness. This is drowning and Felix comes with a guilty quake. He sees a body in the dark behind his eyes and it looks like his. Felix should get Dimitri off. Felix should make Dimitri feel good. Felix should shower the prince in praise, give him love, give him purpose, do what he came in here to do.

Felix aches and aches instead. Felix throws up river water and gobbets of lion mane.


End file.
